CHAPTER X.

THE THUNDERSHOWER.


It had been growing warmer all day. When Susie looked at the thermometer
at noon she wrote "82 degrees" in her little book. As they sat around
the dinner table Uncle Robert asked:

"Do you find it hot in the meadow to-day?" "Rather warm," replied Mr.
Leonard, "but it is fine haying weather. By night we shall have the hay
in off that twenty acres, and it will be the finest crop of timothy I
have had in years."

The haying had begun four days before. For a week Mr. Leonard had
visited the field of timothy daily, and when he found the long heads of
the graceful grass in full bloom he said:

"It is ready. We must begin to-morrow."

So the next morning the horses were hitched to the mowing machine, and
Peter drove out to the meadow. The plumy heads of the tall timothy
swayed on their slender stalks as they bowed before the breeze that
swept over the meadow, making it look in the sunshine like the rippling
surface of a quiet lake.

[Illustration: Mowing the meadow.]

It seemed a pity to cut it down, but Peter thought only of the fine hay